Blast from the Past
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: Fourteen years after Korea, Margaret gets an unexpected visit from a former colleague.


**Blast from the Past**

"Mom? There's a man at the door. Says he knows you from a long time ago."

Margaret dried her hands on the dishtowel and turned to face her daughter. "From a long time ago?" she echoed. "Did you ask his name?"

Patty shook her head no and Margaret gave her a half-hearted "tsk tsk." Patty was apparently past the stage where she was too curious about everything for her own good and was now fast approaching the stage where nothing her mother did concerned her in the least.

Patty marched up the stairs to her bedroom as Margaret headed to the front door, giving her living room a perfunctory look and deciding it was presentable enough for a guest. Especially since that guest was uninvited. She found herself feeling somewhat annoyed that whoever-it-was hadn't bothered to call first. She had so much to do this evening. Sighing, she opened the door and her frustrated sigh instantly turned into a surprised cry of "Oh!"

Standing there before her was Hawkeye Pierce, whom she hadn't seen since the day they left Korea. And that was, she was astonished to realize, 14 years ago.

"Pierce!" she said, her face breaking out in an enormous grin. "Wow! This is quite a surprise." She gestured to him that he should come in, and he did, pausing long enough to pull her into a bear hug.

"It's so great to see you, Margaret," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before releasing her.

Stepping back, she gave him the once-over. He looked terrific, though older, of course. He was entirely gray now, not that that was surprising (he'd been well on his way there during the war; the experience had aged him dramatically). But those clear blue eyes were the same… just as luminous as she remembered. He looked relaxed, too, something that she's not sure she ever saw in his demeanor in Korea. They may have had a lot of free time, but rarely did they feel like they could let their guards down. They'd been truly living on the edge back then.

She couldn't seem to close her mouth… she just stood there in total shock, albeit _delighted_ shock. Finally she motioned him to the couch and they each took a seat on it. "Where did…" she sputtered, laughed, then tried again. "How did you know where I live?"

"Radar has kept track of everyone," he said with a wave of his hand. "You want to know anything, just give Radar a call. He actually had two addresses for you, one of them in Virginia and this one, but he was pretty sure this was the current one."

Margaret nodded. "We moved here from Virginia a couple years ago. David took an administrative position at CHOP." She stopped herself, did a mental rewind. "Uh, David is my husband, and CHOP is the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. But that you already know, I'm sure."

He nodded. "Of course. Excellent hospital," he said, taking a good look around the room. "And you have at least one child. She didn't introduce herself, but she's very cute."

Margaret beamed, despite hearing of her daughter's less-than-gracious welcoming of their visitor. "That was Patty. She's 11 and… well, you know. Her manners leave a lot to be desired sometimes. But she's a good kid."

"Just the one, then?"

"Yes, she's our only child." Margaret's brain was still scrambling to get caught up… she was still feeling thrown and overwhelmed by this visit. But after a moment she collected herself and asked, "And how about you? Married?"

He gave one of his patented smirks as he shook his head and said, "Somebody's going to have to get me pregnant first."

"Pierce, that's one of your golden oldies, that joke," she admonished.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I stick with the classics."

There was the briefest of pauses before she wondered, "So what brings you here? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, because of course I am." And to prove it, she reached out and stroked his arm, as if to assure herself that he was real and not some crazy illusion.

He settled a little more comfortably in the couch cushions, seeming to search for the right words. And that was a surprise, because if there was one person who knew every word for every situation, it was Hawkeye Pierce. "Margaret," he finally began, his voice soft, "my life since the war has been… Well, let's just say it hasn't exactly been smooth sailing. I won't bore you with the details, but you can take my word for it. Luckily, I recently came to my senses—assuming I had any sense to begin with—and realized that I need to take control of things. I started going to Alcoholics Anonymous a few months ago." He paused, perhaps waiting for her to make some kind of comment, but she was at a loss. With a broad smile, he added proudly, "I've gone 103 days now without a drink… but who's counting, right?"

She laughed, then leaned into him to give him a congratulatory hug. "I'm so happy to hear that, Hawkeye." It was the first time she called him by his nickname, she realized.

"Thank you. Well, the point is, AA is making a big difference in my life, obviously in a very positive way. There are these guidelines we try to live by… called the Twelve-Step Program… you know?"

She nodded, but she only had a vague idea what he was talking about.

"You do things," he explained, "to try to move forward, to overcome your issues. One of them is that you make a list of all the people you've harmed and you try to make amends."

She was watching him closely, and now she started a bit, finally catching on. "Are you saying you're here to apologize? To me? Because I have to tell you, Hawkeye, you have nothing to apologize for… not as far as I'm concerned."

He gently took hold of one of her hands and studied it, perhaps not wanting to look her in the eyes right then. Once again he seemed to be reaching for words, and she patiently waited him out. "Margaret, I don't think I was very fair to you back then, in a lot of ways. I _do_ have things to apologize for. For all the disrespect I showed you at first, for the asshole I was at times. And then later… our little indiscretion in that hut—"

"Hawkeye," she interrupted, suddenly grateful that her daughter had retreated to her bedroom and wasn't around to hear this juicy tidbit. "That… well, that was something that both of us needed at the time, and in spite of everything, I don't regret it. It's far behind us, and in many ways, it was good for us. You know what I'm saying?"

An enthusiastic nod of his head. "It _was_ good for us in the long run. But at the time, it meant a lot to you, and I reacted badly, to say the least. All I wanted to do was pull away, and I know I hurt you."

"It's water under the bridge," she said, meaning it. "We hashed all this out a long time ago."

"Maybe so," he allowed, "but did I ever actually apologize? Somehow I doubt it. Margaret, I just want to apologize for everything. For that, and for every time I treated you with anything less than the respect you deserved." He grinned then, looking very much like the 32-year-old man she'd kissed goodbye in July of 1953. "You wanna know something…? I learned a lot from you."

"You did?" This was a newsflash to her. How could this well-educated, well-read, and incredibly bright man have learned things from _her_?

"Not many women back then were giving me what-for. Most of them were just giving me what I wanted. But not you. You were always calling me on my shit, and I didn't much like it at the time, but I appreciate it now, believe it or not. As I look back, I realize you were the catalyst for the change in my attitude toward women. In how I think about them. You showed me the error of my ways."

"Well good!" she said, sitting a little straighter in her seat, feeling justifiably proud. "That seems like a lesson Hawkeye the Hound needed to learn." She laughed. "I have to say, you seem so… I don't know what the right word is. You seem like you've found peace. Like you've mellowed. It looks good on you."

"Ahh, that's exactly how it feels, like I've mellowed. I'm glad it's showing."

She tilted her head to the side, considering him. Only slightly teasing, she said, "I think your next step is to find somebody to settle down with."

He laughed, and she wasn't sure if he was agreeing or not. "As we say in AA, one day at a time. One step at a time. I am feeling great, though, and that's what's important right now."

Tears came to her eyes, and she realized how much she still loved this man, even though they hadn't kept in touch. They were bonded forever, after everything they'd been through during those three endless years in Korea, and seeing him this serene and happy was very satisfying.

She flashed back, remembering an insolent, wisecracking young doctor who rudely called her "Major Baby," then the immature prankster who was forever trying to get a peek at her in the shower, then the sweet, sensitive man who was there to support her when she got her divorce papers.

And that seemed to open the floodgates. Memories rushed back to her, the images overlapping in her mind. Getting a breathtaking Christmas kiss from him as Frank Burns watched, fuming… going to a frontline aid station with him, assisting him as they frantically worked with shells exploding around them… confiding in him when she worried that she might be pregnant… cowering with him outside of a cave where they were taking refuge from a crossfire. They had sparred, yelled, laughed, conspired, loved. They'd seen each other at their best and at their worst, and everywhere in between.

"Pierce," she said, blinking away the tears in her eyes, "I have to say, the friendship you and I had is probably—no, not probably—_definitely_ the weirdest one of my entire life. But I wouldn't trade a minute of it, and I mean that."

Now it looked like _he_ had tears in his eyes. "I'm glad to hear that, Margaret. It was very special to me, too." He smacked his own knees, as if to get himself back on track. "Now then, like I said, there were times when I was shitty to you back then, in our previous life, and I came here to make amends. So tell me, how can I make it up to you?"

Margaret shook her head and managed a shaky smile, swallowing audibly around the lump in her throat. "Hawkeye," she said, reaching out and touching his arm, "you just did."


End file.
